End of a party
by Marenke
Summary: Daphne cursed all ancient wizards she could name, and those she also couldn't, dizziness taking her, as she stumbled through the stone hallways of Hogwarts. Either there was some new magical bullshit in place, or the world was spinning, too fast and making her sick.


**Inktober prompt day 24: dizzy.**

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Daphne cursed all ancient wizards she could name, and those she also couldn't, dizziness taking her, as she stumbled through the stone hallways of Hogwarts. Either there was some new magical bullshit in place, or the world was spinning, too fast and making her sick.

She probably shouldn't have stolen Slughorn's Firewhiskey stash and drank it all. But then, again, how was she supposed to drown her sorrows? Crying in bed with all the Slytherins around her would just make her a joke.

Snorting, Daphne eyed the more empty than full bottle she was carrying. What sorrows she was to have? It wasn't her fault that the Zabini family found Astoria more of a proper bride than Daphne. Not her fault at all Blaise was closer to her sister than her and that his mother cared for his opinion, while her parents hadn't even asked if she would mind marrying a childhood friend. Not her fault if she had fallen in love with him only to be rejected -

She stumbled on her own feet, too drunk for her own good, and waited for the fall and broken glass that would wait for her in the cold ground. Instead, Daphne felt warm around wrap themselves around her, and she looked up, violet eyes meeting green ones that belonged to no one else but Harry Potter.

"Great, it's _you_." Daphne slurred, words coming out all together, meaner than intended. She cringed at that; of course Blaise would prefer Astoria, sweet, nice, polite Astoria who didn't get drunk on a weekday, over a mean sow such as herself. Potter helped her straighten herself up, one hand staying in her pulse, fingers making a bracelet that didn't hurt.

"Are you alright, Greengrass?" Potter asked, and Daphne scoffed, an eye roll accompanying it.

"Do I look alright? I'm drunk, with stolen Firewhiskey on my hand, and being helped by you, of all people." Daphne sneered, pulling her wrist back, and he let her go; Daphne stumbled back, and Potter grabbed her once more. "Don't - don't touch me."

He nodded, letting her go, hands in the air for a moment before they fell back. Daphne, meanwhile, hit the wall, slumping to the ground, and he accompanied her, sitting by her side.

The cold of the wall brought some sobriety, but not enough.

"So, uh, what happened, if I may ask?" Potter asked, slowly, as if she was a trap, ready to spring on the first person unlucky enough to step on it. Daphne eyed him, carefully at first, and offered him the handle of the Firewhiskey, which he accepted gleefully, drinking from it straight up, not even shuddering when it hit his stomach. Daphne nodded, appreciative of anyone who could hold their drink, and took a swig from it herself before spinning her sob story.

When she was done, the liquid in the bottle didn't exist outside their bodies anymore, and he looked at her.

"So you're out here, crying like a kid - no offense, Daphne, can I call you Daphne? - because of…_ Blaise _Zabini?" Harry asked, genuinely curious and only half drunk. Daphne wasn't sure if she still had a liver. "Really? There's so many better people on this school, though."

Daphne snorted, unladylike.

"Yeah, like who? Weasley? Longbottom?" Longbottom would be a spineless husband, and Daphne didn't even consider Weasley human. "I want a husband who's going to be an intellectual match to me. Someone I can have fun with."

Potter - at this point, Harry - paused, staring at her, green against violet. He looked at her lips, and Daphne considered him. He had good breeding (an internal snorting at this one; what was he, a horse?), and while his grades weren't the best, Daphne knew him to be good enough in dueling that it probably passed to his debating ability.

"We wouldn't be a half-bad match, you know." Daphne said, trying to provoke Harry into saying something his eyes were promising. "I mean, can you imagine? First, the drama of it all. Second, it would really be…"

"I wouldn't mind." A beat, and Harry blushed, beautifully, ethereal almost; Daphne, too, found herself reddening for reasons she couldn't explain, deciding to blame it on the alcohol. "I mean, I'd like to get to know you first, but I wouldn't mind. Especially if it would spite Zabini and would make you… Y'know, happy."

Daphne smiled at that - earnestly, for the first time in days a smile passing by her lips - and she chuckled.

"Oh, come on, I'm not ina… I…" The word, too complicated for her drunk brain, refused to leave her mouth. "I can be found. Just talk to me when you see me. It's not that hard."

Harry was going to say something - _anything_ could've come out of his mouth and Daphne would probably kiss him, really -, but then a meow was heard, echoing through the hallways, and the two froze.

Harry looked behind her, and Daphne did as well, mrs. Norris so close Daphne would just have to extend her hand a little to pet the cat.

Stumbling to get up, Daphne helped Harry rise.

"If we make it without getting detention, get breakfast with me, Harry." She told him, and Harry, too serious, nodded. "Now scram."

"Try not to die out there." He said, lightly kissing her before running away, disappearing behind a corner. Daphne was in a stupor for a moment, but an amused meow out of mrs. Norris broke her out of her reverie.

Daphne ran, and only when she arrived at the Slytherin dorms she recalled she had left the empty bottle behind, biting her lower lip to avoid cursing.


End file.
